


eyes full of stars

by g0ldrush



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: AU, F/F, asami’s parents are very sweet and supportive, stable hand korra, yeehaw korrasami sorta, yes the title is from cowboy like me but are we surprised at this point, “enemies” to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29303334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/g0ldrush/pseuds/g0ldrush
Summary: "Korra Waters; the hired help, stable hand, groundskeeper, etcetera," she offers by way of explanation.Asami stares at her hand for a long moment, but doesn't take it. If she's offended by her utter lack of social skills it doesn't seem to show. If anything, she looks amused.Her parents hired someone to work the ranch. And she's living in the apartment. She's supposed to be here and she's just barged in on her in the middle of the night, disrupting her sleep. The facts slowly permeate the fog surrounding her brain and she feels heat rise to her cheeks as embarrassment pounds in her ears. She really should have called ahead."Uh, I'm Asami Sato, my parents, they own the property."
Relationships: Korra/Asami Sato
Comments: 35
Kudos: 171





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone! i can’t thank u all enough for all the love and support i received from my last fic :’) this is a bit different to anything that i’ve written so far but i am super excited to share it with u all. enjoy! x

Thunder rumbles violently through the heavens and Asami can feel its vibration shaking its way along the gravel road, past wet rubber, up through the metal frame of the car and into her bones. Lightning flashes again in the distance and she bumps the dial, nudging her windshield wipers up to max as the rain falls harder, a murky deluge obscuring her view.

She's been driving for hours with only brief pit-stops for gas and greasy takeout, plying herself with caffeine to stay alert. Slouching in her seat Asami groans, rotating stiff shoulders and shifting her weight between her seat bones as she searches the dark stormy road for the driveway she knows is here somewhere, out in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

Seeing the sign moments too late, she rolls right past it, brakes locking up as the car skids to a stop on the muddied road. Shifting into reverse, she rolls the car backwards until the large wooden placard comes into view, lit only by her headlights, the floodlights beneath it darkened and useless. Magnolia Ranch.

It's long past midnight (the faded numbers on the dash read 1:39) when she finally cranks the wheel and steers her sports car down the long winding driveway to her home. She scoffs at the thought. Home. She's not sure she's even allowed to call it that any more. After all she only visits once, maybe twice a year (for a belated Christmas and occasionally in the summer if her parents are persistent enough with their persuasion).

She's spent the last five years living in a distant city (far away from everything she grew up with), five long years that were supposed to have her well on her way to a happy and successful life. All that time and effort and what does she have to show for it?

Big, fat, fucking nothing.

Well, that's not entirely true; she's got a business degree. Not that she has any idea what to do with it. Turns out this whole being an adult business is a lot harder than she thought it would be.

Oh and she has a broken heart. Courtesy of Mako- her high school sweetheart, supposed love of her life. The man she's spent the last seven years loving, only to discover that he's been screwing another woman behind her back for the past six weeks. The thought makes her sick and bile rises in her throat even as tears prick at her lids and blood rushes through her veins, white hot with fury.

And it couldn't have come at a worse time, because just this morning when she walked into work (a meaningless gig as a file clerk/secretary/doormat, but hey, something's gotta pay the bills) her boss informed her that the company had gone bankrupt. No heads up, no severance package, not even her last pay check. Just a perfunctory apology and a shrug of his shoulders as he told her she may as well pack up her belongings.

So she had, and three short minutes later she was walking out the door, tossing the wobbly box onto the passenger seat before heading back to their apartment, hoping to catch Mako before he left for work. And catch him she did: buck naked in their bed with Ginger, their fucking neighbor from across the hall.

She can't even remember what was said, the words that passed between them, all she remembers is screaming at him as she hastily shoved her belongings in her suitcase, grabbing anything she deemed important and thinking to fucking hell with all the rest.

Five years and most of her possessions fit easily into one large bag, packed in the span of minutes. It's pathetic and it should make her sad that she can pack up and leave with such efficient ease, but she's mostly just glad. Glad that she didn't have to spend one more second listening to his feeble excuses, his laughable apology, because what he did, it's not something you can ever apologize for.

So she had plucked the key from the chain, dropped it to the floor, and slammed the door in his face as she left.

It was an impromptu decision, to make the long drive back to her parents, but where else could she go? Any friend she had in this city had started out a friend of Mako's first and she wanted to get far away from anything that was even remotely associated with him.

So 15 long hours, and just over 1000 miles later, she's home. She thought about calling her parents and letting them know she was on her way, but her cell died an hour into the drive and she decided to leave it that way, not wanting to deal with missed calls and texts from Mako. She'll talk to her parents in the morning. It's incredibly late now and she's exhausted from emotional upheaval and driving all goddamn day and she has no desire whatsoever to discuss feelings and heartbreak and failure.

The power at the ranch is out, not all that surprising with the violence of the late May thunderstorm raging strong into the night. There's a fork in the driveway and she takes the path that curves left, throwing the car into park when she brings it to a stop by the garage next to the barn. There's a small apartment above it, one that she's stayed in during each rare visit home (always alone, because of course Mako had never wanted to come with her, always bitching about hating the country and leaving it for a reason).

Killing the engine, she leaves her bag in the trunk and makes a quick dash to the porch, winding up half soaked in the mere feet from shelter to shelter. She breathes a sigh of relief when the knob turns and the door swings open, glad that people rarely ever lock their doors out here. There's no one around for miles and there is more concern for wildlife making its way indoors than burglars.

Thunder rumbles again, and she climbs the stairs that lead up to the apartment, a hand on each wall to guide her steps in the darkness. When she reaches the landing at the top, she fiddles with the door knob and kicks at the bottom with her heel. The door sticks, always has, and opening it is an exercise in precision. Finally she leans heavily against the wood, throwing her weight into it.

She's caught completely unaware when the door swings open easily and she stumbles loudly into the room, tripping over her own feet and landing unsettled but upright with a heavy crash against the wall. A picture swings precariously on its nail and falls to the ground before she can reach for it, glass shattering.

"Goddamnit!" she curses. Can things just go her way for one fucking second? It's a miracle she made it here without crashing her car. It seems her life is just one disaster after another today.

"Shit!" a woman’s voice sounds in the dark, sleepy and irritated.

Asami freezes, grabbing for something, anything on the entry table to defend herself against the unknown foe. She looks around but the room is dark and she can't see a damn thing, much less who it was that spoke.

She hears rustling, another curse, then the strike of a match, sulfur scraping against phosphorus, and suddenly the room is illuminated by the soft glow of firelight streaming from a lantern.

A woman holds it up, clearly confused, blinking the sleep from her blue eyes. She's dressed in a thin white t-shirt with shorts slung low on her hips. Her hair is a mess, sticking up at all angles. She woke her up, that much is clear, but her exhausted mind can't seem to put together anything more concrete than that.

"Who the hell are you?" Asami asks, oblivious to the glass crunching beneath her heels.

"I could ask you the same question," she retorts.

"I live here," she supplies after a second when she realizes that the woman is waiting for a reply.

She raises an eyebrow and a slow smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

"Well then, I'm afraid we've got a problem," she steps into heavy work boots and shifts forward, stopping a couple feet from her, "you see I also happen to live here."

"Who are you?" Asami asks again, seriously confused.

"Who are you?" she parrots, repeating her question with an infuriating grin.

"What are you, five?" she jeers, crossing her arms, "I asked you first."

Yes, Asami, because that's so much more mature.

She switches the lantern to her left hand and offers her right.

"Korra Waters; the hired help, stable hand, groundskeeper, etcetera," she offers by way of explanation.

Asami stares at her hand for a long moment, but doesn't take it. If she's offended by her utter lack of social skills it doesn't seem to show. If anything, she looks amused.

Her parents hired someone to work the ranch. And she's living in the apartment. She's supposed to be here and she's just barged in on her in the middle of the night, disrupting her sleep. The facts slowly permeate the fog surrounding her brain and she feels heat rise to her cheeks as embarrassment pounds in her ears. She really should have called ahead.

"Uh, I'm Asami Sato, my parents, they own the property."

"It’s nice to you Asami, even if the circumstance is less than ideal." She looks down at her hand and chuckles, eyebrow lifting. "A hoof pick? Had I been an intruder, was that your weapon of choice for self-defence?"

Looking down at the tool in her hand, Asami shakes her head, searching for a witty response and finding none. God she really needs to sleep. Shaking herself from her stupor, she places the hoof pick back on the table.

"Korra was it?"

She nods.

"Sorry for barging in here and waking you, it's uh, been a long day..." she offers lamely. "I'll get out of here and let you get back to bed. I should probably go let my parents know I'm home."

Turning to leave, she's halted by a soft pressure on her arm.

"Here," Korra offers her an umbrella and the lantern with a kind smile. "And it's alright. I imagine there are worse ways to be woken up to."

She gives her what she hopes is a gracious smile in return.

"Thanks for the umbrella. I guess I'll see you tomorrow, or today rather. Later I guess."

Korra’s features shift, her grin once again amused and she turns, leaving before she says something that makes her look even more of a fool. Her words are not entirely under her control right now and she yawns as she marches down the stairs and out onto the porch.

With the umbrella open to shield her from the worst of the downpour she heads across the muddied driveway, cursing her choice of footwear as she makes her way to her parent's house.

She has a key, but doesn't need it. The door to the house is unlocked as well and she slips inside, toeing off her pumps and hanging the umbrella in the mudroom.

The kitchen is lit with dull white light and Asami finds her father sitting at the table, flashlight pointed upwards, casting a bright halo of light against the ceiling.

"You don't call, you don't write," her father teases with a smile and she's confused because he doesn't seem at all surprised to see her.

He stands and Asami sits the lantern on the table, wrapping her arms around his waist as he returns the hug and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

"Sorry Dad," she says, "what are you still doing up?"

"Mako called..." he admits slowly, tone laced with quiet anger.

"He can go fucking rot in hell." The nerve! She can't believe he called here.

She has no idea how much of the situation her father knows, but if his voice is anything to go by, he knows enough. She really doesn't want to have this conversation right now. Actually, she'd prefer to never have it. Wiping the last five years from existence would be preferable.

Hiroshi chuckles and hugs her tighter. "I told him as much, though not in such colorful language."

He doesn't press for further information (perhaps because he realizes that she's miles past exhausted, but more likely because he just doesn't want all the gory details, dads are like that) and she breathes a sigh of relief.

"I guess Mom is asleep?" Asami asks.

"Yeah, school year isn't over yet, she's still got class to teach for a few more weeks."

Asami yawns then, loudly, her jaw cracking. She's going to have to sleep in the spare room; the apartment is obviously spoken for, and her childhood bedroom was converted into an office/craft room for her mother years ago.

"I guess I'll take the guest room. I may have accidentally woken up your stable hand trying to sneak into the apartment above the garage," she confesses guiltily. "She was far kinder about it then I would have been."

Another laugh shakes its way through her father's chest and Asami feels an answering one bloom in response.

"Yeah well, Korra's a good young lady. Just don't make a habit of disturbing her sleep, I'd hate to have to replace her, never met anyone who works as hard as she does."

"What's her story anyway?" Asami asks, fighting another yawn. "She's not from around here, right?”

"We can talk about it tomorrow, right now you need sleep."

Sleep; right, that would be amazing. And she's tired enough now that she thinks she'll be able to fall into an easy slumber, hopefully one that's blissfully empty.

She pulls back, grabbing the lantern and her father follows her down the hall to the spare room.

"Where's your suitcase?"

Flopping back on the bed with a contented groan, Asami closes her eyes. "Left it in the car, didn't feel like lugging it through the mud and rain."

A hinge creaks and Asami cracks an eye open, watching her father rummage through the closet before tossing a set of pajamas next to her on the bed.

"I'll bring it in for you in the morning."

Thunder rumbles again, growing quieter, distant, and she thinks that he looks sad in the dim light of the lantern.

"It's good to see you, kiddo," he says, lingering for a moment in the doorway.

"You too, dad."

He closes the door softly behind him and Asami forces herself to stand and change, swapping her damp, horridly wrinkled pantsuit for a cozy flannel that smells of fabric softener and earth.

Wrapped in a cocoon of soft quilts and crocheted blankets, Asami snuffs out the lantern, plunging the room into a true darkness she had grown unaccustomed to in the city. Out here, with the power down and storm clouds cloaking the moon and stars, there's nothing but dark empty space, stretching for miles and miles. It's quiet too; only the soft patter of raindrops against the roof and the dwindling roll of thunder fill the silence.

It should be unsettling, the stillness, after years of living in a city that never truly sleeps, but it isn't, not at all. It's peaceful, cathartic; it's exactly what she needs, and the last thought that crosses her mind before sleep ever so gently pulls her under, is that she's exactly where she needs to be. She's home.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Asami wakes briefly, if one can even call it waking, it's not full awareness by any means. She doesn't even open her eyes; it's just a snippet of consciousness, a fleeting moment in which she is surrounded by the warmth of her mother's arms, flowery perfume and the press of lips to her forehead. It comes and goes in a heartbeat, and soon she's slipping back into the comforting embrace of somnolence.

True wakefulness comes to her much later, slowly, in stages as if ascending an invisible staircase, each step rousing a new sense.

Sound greets her first, the faint tune of Journey's Don't Stop Believin' drifting from somewhere in the house (her father always did have a thing for 80's pop), the feel of plush blankets and a warm breeze next. The air is filled with the scent of saturated earth, rainfall and growth and new beginnings, permeated by the delicious alchemy of percolating coffee, an aroma so intoxicating that she can practically taste it against her tongue.

Finally Asami opens her eyes, squinting against the bright light shining through the open window. The day appears sunny and warm, and she stretches languidly, revelling in the fact that she has absolutely nothing on her agenda. She'd forgotten what it was like to wake up out here in the country, to fresh air and the sounds of nature and farm life. It's a halcyon paradise and she feels more rested than she has in years.

Mako and the fight and the breakup rush to the forefront of her mind but she pushes them back, stomping down hard on all the feelings of anger and sadness and regret, the thoughts of 'why me?' and 'what did I do wrong?', refusing to let him ruin such a beautiful day.

Creaking, the bedroom door is nudged open by the broad nose of an aging Labrador-Retriever. The big black dog stands there with just his head peaking through the opening, tongue lolling, goofy grin on his face.

"Come here, Oliver!" she calls, sitting up in bed to prepare for the impending onslaught of slobbery kisses.

Oliver obeys immediately, bounding across the room and leaping onto the bed, barrelling head-first into her chest, proceeding to immediately lick her entire face with his tongue. After several seconds and a couple unfortunate French kisses, she pushes him away, scratching behind his ear with her nails.

"Yuck, ugh gross, that's enough you doofus!"

Oliver barks happily and Asami laughs.

"Yes I missed you too," she tells him. "You must be getting slow in your old age; you didn't even hear me come home last night, did you?"

The dog snuffles through the blankets, pawing at her hip and she gives him a solid pat on the head.

"What do you say old man? Should we go get some breakfast?"

Oliver perks up and hops off the bed, whining excitedly. If dogs could talk, she's pretty sure this guy would.

Following Oliver into the kitchen, she finds her father frying bacon on the stove, humming along with the radio. The clock on the microwave reads quarter to noon and she stands on her toes, grabbing a mug from the cupboard.

"Morning, dad," she greets, turning down the volume on the stereo as she pours coffee.

Oliver sits proudly at her father's feet and head butts him in the thigh.

"Ah good boy Oliver!" her father praises the dog, tossing him a small nibble of bacon. "Finally got lazybones here out of bed."

"Hey! I think I deserve to sleep in after the day I had!" The words come out harsher than intended, snappy and defensive, and she instantly wishes she could take them back.

Hiroshi hands her a plate of pancakes and piles a generous helping of bacon on the side.

"I was only kidding, peanut."

The nickname warms her heart and Asami sighs. "I know, I'm sorry."

Ruffling her hair, he echoes her sigh.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She appreciates the offer, she really does, but she's not going to take him up on it, not today, and definitely not tomorrow. Maybe in a week, when she's had time to settle, to breathe, to distance herself from the ugly reality of it all, but today she's going to do what she does best and avoid the hell out of it.

"Not yet," she says with a sense of finality that leaves little room for discussion.

Her father accepts her avoidance readily (far more so than she suspects her mother will) and takes a seat at the table with her. Oliver nudges his way past the chairs to lie beneath the table at their feet, a furry footrest for her bare toes.

Pouring an obscene amount of syrup over her pancakes, she digs in, savoring the way light and fluffy melds with sticky sweet. She's always been god-awful at cooking, her attempts at pancakes more closely resembling lumpy rubber than anything remotely edible.

"This is amazing, dad," she compliments through a mouthful of bacon.

"Only the best for my little princess"

23 years old and he still calls her by the same silly endearments as he did when she was a just a small girl of 3. It's sweet and charming and suddenly she feels absolutely terrible for only visiting a handful of time in the last 5 years. She's got to be the worst daughter ever.

Studying him while she eats, she notices that age has definitely taken its toll on his features in her absence. His hair is heavily peppered with grey at the temples and has noticeably receded. Wrinkles, deep lines and creases, mark the plains of his face, evidence of hearty laughter and full smiles, over half a century of hard work and good life. He's softer now too (she'd noticed last night when she hugged him), still muscular but not nearly to the extent she remembers. She supposes that's to be expected with age. It also makes sense if he isn't working the farm as much these days.

Sipping at her coffee, she curls her bare toes into the warmth of Oliver's fur, rubbing his belly with her feet.

"When did you decide to hire full-time help?" she asks, nodding in the direction of the barn.

They've always had one or two seasonal staff in the busy summer months, when tourism picks up and the cabins on the other side of the property are rented out to guests interested in fishing and camping and trail rides, wanting to learn all about life in the country, away from the plush comforts and easy conveniences of the city.

They've never had hired help the rest of the year though; her father had always been the one to care for the property, mucking out stalls and giving riding lessons to kids from the nearby town, while her mother worked at the elementary school, teaching years 4 through 6; the town so small, (a population of only 742), that grades are combined because there just aren't enough students to bother separating them (and paying extra staff).

"We hired Korra back in March. Last winter was the worst we've seen in years and with that ice-storm, the clean up was just too much to handle on my own." He wipes at his mouth with a napkin after he finishes his last sip of coffee. "I'm hardly a spring chicken any more Asami, figured it was about time to cut back on my responsibilities. I still teach the lessons and take care of the business and financial aspects, but Korra does most of the manual labor these days."

"How is she with the horses?” 

"She's great. The horses love her; even Rocky, that cantankerous old pony of yours."

Asami laughs, disbelieving. Rocky was the stout little grey pony she learned to ride on as a child.

"Seriously? Rocky? We're talking about the same pony right? The little shit who dumped me on my ass more times than I can count? The one that we can't even use for pony rides because we'd never have a repeat customer if we sent every kid back to their parents crying?"

Hiroshi laughs. "One and the same; follows Korra around like a lost little foal."

"I think I'm going to have to see this to believe it!"

Standing, Asami gathers the dishes. Her father cooked, cleaning up is the least she can do. She fills the sink with hot water and dish soap. Grabbing a towel from the oven, Hiroshi moves to stand next to her, chortling as he dries the frying pan.

"She's great, quiet, honest, hardworking. Your mother has always maintained that animals have a sixth sense about that sort of thing and I have to say I agree with her."

Asami has to admit that she agrees as well. Perhaps she should have taken her dog’s complete and total animosity toward Mako (even back in high school) as a sign. It's too late for that now though. Oh well, you live and learn.

Cleaning the kitchen of a late breakfast's clutter doesn't take long with her father's help, and when they're done, she turns to him, twirling the dishtowel between her hands.

"What are you up to today?" she asks him, not really wanting to be alone with her thoughts, wanting the distraction of company (specifically someone she knows won't press her to talk). She could call up Kuvira or even Opal, both long-time friends, but she knows they won't be free until after work. Both had chosen to stay in the small town after high school; Kuvira had opened up her own boutique right next door to Sunshine Diner, and Opal had taken over managing the local book shop.

"Got plans to run into town," Hiroshi tells her apologetically, as if he instinctively knows she was hoping to spend more time with him. "Truck needs a tune up and the bills won't pay themselves."

Actually they probably would if her father would take a step into the twenty-first century and learn how to use online banking (she doesn't expect that to happen any time soon though).

"You're welcome to come with me if you..."

She's fairly certain the look on her face must be reluctant and more than a little repulsed.

"Or not," he chuckles. "Korra said she was going to head out for a ride after lunch to check the property for storm damage. I doubt she'd mind the company if you wanted to go with her."

It's not a terrible suggestion; a nice long ride might be just what she needs to clear her head, and she should probably apologize again to the poor girl for disturbing her sleep.

"I might do that. Gonna grab a quick shower first though; want to wash the stench of city and fast food from my hair." (And Mako), she adds silently. "I'll see you and Mom tonight for dinner?"

Nodding, Hiroshi heads to the mudroom, pulling on his boots and a light windbreaker. "Was thinking of grabbing Sunshine's; any requests?"

Despite the fact that she's just eaten and her stomach is still full of pancakes and bacon, her mouth waters and she almost wishes she didn't have to wait until later.

"Grilled cheese!" Asami all but demands. "And fries. Oh, pick up one of her frozen lasagnas for tomorrow. And definitely some of those pecan butter tarts. She still makes them right?"

Hiroshi jots each request down on a piece of paper, his smile steadily growing wider. "So I guess I'll just inform her that we intend to eat her out of house and home?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Food from Sunshine Diner had been a regular occurrence growing up and it's something she has missed dearly these last 5 years being away from home.

"Have a good day, kiddo," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Another childish nickname; it's something that should probably bother her, but instead they just make her feel loved (like she belongs).

"You too, Dad."

She hears the old diesel truck rumble to life as she turns the knob, starting the shower in the bathroom, glad that the guest room has an en suite of its own. The bathroom is stocked with shampoo and conditioner (her mother is like a boy scout; always prepared), which is good because they definitely weren't on her short list of important items to grab when she was hastily packing yesterday morning. It's likely she'd forgotten a number of things, but she can't bring herself to care (items can be replaced and she's never really been the sentimental sort anyway).

Finishing in the shower quickly, she towels off and twists her hair into a messy braid before tugging on jeans and a thin sweater. She finds a pair of her old cowboy boots in the closet and steps into them, thankful that her parents kept them around.

Oliver follows her out the door, bounding off in the opposite direction when Asami walks across the yard. She makes her way into the barn but it's empty (Korra must still be eating lunch).

She looks around, impressed. Hard worker is right. The stables are immaculate; organized and well swept, not a stray bit of hay or shavings in sight. Even the stubborn cobwebs that forever seem to cling to the rafters have been cleared away. She peaks into several stalls; water buckets scrubbed clean, hay stacked neatly beneath them. The latches on each door are different than she remembers; sturdy wrought iron that looks recently replaced. Even the feed and tack rooms are tidy and swept.

Trailing her fingers along a window ledge, they come away dust free. This Korra is good, really good; she can see why her father likes her. The barn is cleaner than her apartment had ever been.

"Inspecting my work?"

Asami jumps, startled, holding her hand over her thundering heart as she turns to face Korra.

"Jesus! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" she scolds lightly.

"Thought I’d return the favor," Korra says with a teasing grin. "After all, you nearly gave me one last night when you stumbled into my apartment."

"I'm pretty sure I already apologized for that," she retorts, frustrated for a reason she cannot name. Something about the smug grin on her face just makes her itch.

"You did," she admits. "Just wasn't sure you remembered. You were pretty out of it." She pauses and her voice softens, filled with empathy and understanding. "Long day, I take it?"

"That's putting it lightly. Things weren't exactly going my way."

She lapses into silence, consumed by her thoughts for a moment before shaking her head. She can't seriously be considering spilling all her dark, dirty secrets to this woman, this perfect stranger who she knows next to nothing about, can she?

Of course not.

She just got caught up for a second; distracted by kind blue eyes. She's heard the saying before, that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and she finds it ridiculously cheesy, but she thinks that maybe there's some truth to it, because for the briefest of seconds, she can see much of the same pain that she feels, reflected back at her through Korra’s eyes.

Korra looks at her again like there's nothing she wants more in this world than to know all of her secrets.

It's unnerving.

So she huffs and glares pointedly at her. "Seriously, quit looking at me like that!"

And the arrogant grin is back. "Like what?"

Flustered, she decides to drop the matter entirely and change course.

"My dad said you were planning to ride out and check the fence line for damage. Do you want some company or not?"

She came out here to go for a ride and she was not going to let her stop her.

"I would love some."

And just like that an easy silence settles over them and he follows her out to one of the large fields where the horses graze, lingering a step behind her, like a shadow she can't (and if she's honest, doesn't really want to) shake.

They pick the two horses standing closest to the gate (the mares in this paddock are all well trained and used frequently for lessons and trail rides).

Korra takes the dark mare and latches the gate as Asami leads the other back toward the barn.

Catching sight of Oliver across the yard, Asami whistles for him, laughing as he comes running, proudly carrying a large stick in his mouth.

And he runs right past her...

To Korra.

Oliver hands the stick to Korra and sits proudly at her feet, tail wagging excitedly against the ground as Korra rubs the top of his head.

"Traitor!" Asami calls the dog in what she hopes is a joking manner.

Korra bends and whispers something to Oliver, handing him the stick and immediately Oliver turns on his haunches and lopes lazily to Asami's side.

Un-fucking-believable.

Taking the proffered stick, she chucks it down the driveway for Oliver to fetch before leading the horse into the barn. Korra joins her with the other mare seconds later.

"What did you say to him?" Asami asks, curious.

"I told him that playing favorites wasn't nice, and that he had to bring the stick to you before you got jealous and decided not to join me after all."

Her eyes sparkle mischievously and Asami smiles facetiously as she elbows her playfully in the ribs. 

"Seriously though, what did you say?"

"A magician never reveals her secrets."

Asami pushes her lightly.

"All right, all right, fine. All I said was 'Give the stick to Asami' and he did," Korra chuckles at her disbelieving look. "He may have a head hard as rock, but he's quite intelligent."

Asami sighs. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised he chose you over me. You've probably spent more time with him in the last month than I have in 5 years. I should just be glad he doesn't hate me."

Korra bumps her shoulder against hers softly and gives her a reassuring look. "I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure dogs don't hold grudges, and they definitely don't experience time the same way we do. Whatever has kept you from him the last 5 years, I doubt that Oliver cares. I imagine he's just happy to see you."

The smile she gives Korra is small and wobbly, like a newborn foal learning to stand on unsteady legs, but she's pretty sure it's the most authentic one to have touched her lips in weeks. Whoever this woman is, whatever her story, she seems to understand her, and she thinks that maybe, just maybe, they could be friends.

  
  



End file.
